


More Than Enough

by narcissablaxk



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Anna/Edmund, F/M, Gender roles who?, Modern AU, Robert/Edmund friendship, Samuel being a nice papa, abuse mention, marriage AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7320817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr: OTP person A wants to ask person B to marry them, but they are too scared. Friend of person A takes matters into his own hands to help their friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Enough

“So let me get this straight,” Robert Townsend placed his glass of water gently on the coaster. He meticulously straightened it while he considered how to phrase the rest of his statement. The condensation of the water slid down the side of the glass and collected on the coaster, reflecting the dim orange light of the bar. “You love her, you want to marry her, you have a ring, and yet…” he held out his hands, as if trying to reach for the ridiculousness of the rest of the statement, “you will not propose.” 

Edmund Hewlett exhaled sharply through his nose, reaching up to his collar to loosen his tie and unbutton the top button of his shirt. “You know, repeating what I said over and over again will not make my dilemma any clearer.” 

“It’s not a dilemma,” Robert retorted, “it’s contradictory. If you weren’t planning on proposing, then why did you buy a ring? Another ring, mind you, because you gave her one once before.” 

Edmund, confronted by a flaw in his logic, shrugged. Robert raised his eyebrows at him, waiting for his friend to give him a better excuse, perhaps, one with words. 

Anna and Edmund’s first disastrous trip down the aisle, destroyed by her ex-boyfriend’s father, had obviously haunted him. It had taken them a lot to work up the courage to walk down the aisle in the first place, what with Anna’s first marriage, her affair with Abraham that fractured it, and Edmund’s own previous engagement and lasting terror involving permanent commitments. When Richard Woodhull had stood up and declared that he would object to their union, it had been a sign for both Anna and Edmund. 

Perhaps they just simply weren’t meant to be married. Maybe, as Edmund had said at the time, they had been kidding themselves. 

It had taken Anna refusing to let him leave to get him to come to his senses. 

“Anna isn’t Cassandra,” Robert said as gently as he could, knowing that Edmund would flinch at the sound of her name even before the first syllable left her lips. Edmund closed his eyes tightly against the memories that his former fiancée’s name brought about, and Robert let him collect himself before he continued. 

“Richard Woodhull is the one that ruined your wedding the first time, not Anna or any sort of dissolution of love,” he pushed on. “And you’re one of my best friends, so I’m going to be brutally honest – any man would be lucky to marry Anna Smith.”

Edmund nodded. 

“And if you don’t ask her, eventually, someone else will.” 

Edmund pursed his lips in displeasure but nodded once more. 

“So what’s the problem?” 

Edmund’s voice was small. “I’m scared.” 

Robert’s heart ached for his friend, but he didn’t show it. He couldn’t show it. His success in this venture lied primarily in his ability to be impassive, a sounding board that gave impartial advice. “When you two get married, nothing will change. She was ready to marry you before.” 

“And what if she isn’t now?” 

“And what if she is? Look, Edmund, there will always be questions that you can’t answer unless you ask her yourself,” Robert took a long swig of his water as Edmund polished off his wine. “Why don’t you just discuss it with her? Ask her if she’d be open to getting married. If she is, then you can ask her.” 

“Robert, it has to be a surprise.” 

Robert let out a frustrated groan. “You are impossible.” 

The silence stretched after that, Edmund’s eyes casting around the bar for another topic that would spare his nerves, and Robert trying to find a new tactic. Edmund’s mind was lost in a quagmire of confusing interwoven feelings he couldn’t untangle. Fear, hopelessness, anticipation, rejection. He had Cassandra to thank for that, he could see that now, with distance. 

“You’ll never be enough to please a woman, Edmund.” 

He pressed the heels of his hands into the recesses of his eyes, trying to banish her voice from his mind. It was stuck there, unable to be displaced, but most of the time, he could ignore her. His own insecurities were narrated by Cassandra’s soft, harsh voice. 

“No one else will want you.” 

“Edmund!” Robert was waving his hand in front of his face, his brow furrowed in worry. “Hey, return to the land of the conscious please,” he chuckled, trying to hide his own nervousness at the look that had taken over Edmund’s face. It looked suspiciously like defeat; he couldn’t have that. 

“Sorry,” Edmund’s voice was delicate, a sound almost lost in the conversations swirling around them. 

“Look,” Robert sighed, rubbing his face with his hands like he was banishing sleep. “If you don’t ask her, I will.” 

Edmund’s alarmed face forced him to amend his statement. 

“Ask her for you, that is,” he said quickly. 

His friend’s response was immediate and volatile. “You cannot, Robert, don’t you dare.”

“I’m running out of options, Edmund.” 

Edmund fell, once more, into a restless silence, Robert’s eyes on him. His previous engagement, before Anna, had been to a girl in Scotland, referred to only as Cassandra. Edmund never went into detail about what in particular she had done to him, but it was clear that whatever it was had left a lasting, traumatic impression. When asked about her, Anna’s face would go cold, her jaw tight, and the only words Robert ever managed to pull from her sounded like a gritted “I’ll kill her.” 

He hadn’t pushed after that. But, as his and Edmund’s weekly drinks nights turned into an every night affair featuring his fears about proposing to Anna, he was almost inclined to push once more, in a different manner. 

Edmund turned his wine glass between his fingers as he watched Robert think. The man’s mind was methodical, borderline scientific, and Edmund knew from profound experience that he was looking for a solution to the presented problem. He feared there wasn’t one. Perhaps he and Anna were supposed to linger in this sort of domestic purgatory, with no permanent binding of soul and name. Perhaps that suited her. She had been married once before, he almost, to a truly horrid woman. Maybe they just – weren’t meant for marriage. Didn’t people celebrate that nowadays? 

“Why don’t you let me hunt around?” Robert suggested offhandedly. “I can see what her answer would be.” 

The notion was attractive, but fundamentally flawed. “Anna’s too smart for that,” Edmund shook his head. “She’ll see right through you.” 

“See right through what now?” 

It was like they had summoned her; Robert’s eyes immediately went to Edmund, who had paled considerably at the sight of his girlfriend. Edmund cleared his throat, trying to banish the flush that was sneaking up his neck. With a grimace, Robert had to admit that he didn’t truly succeed. Anna was still dressed in her work clothes; a pencil skirt that was so dark blue it was almost black, and an olive green blouse that featured little white ruffles. Her tasteful pumps were the same green as her shirt. Men at the bar were giving her longing looks that she ignored, that she always ignored. Edmund had yet to even look at her.

The silence had gone on too long already. “Through everything,” Robert finally supplied. “We were just talking about how you’re just too smart for us all.” 

Anna dropped into the seat beside Edmund, providing Edmund with a peck on the cheek before she allowed herself to laugh at the statement. “I wouldn’t say that.” Her eyes still held an uncertainty that told Robert his hastily compiled excuse didn’t truly satisfy her. She turned her gaze to Edmund, who avoided hers. “Are you alright?” she asked gently. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“That’s called being pale,” Edmund retorted lightly, trying to reinsert himself into the conversation. Anna smiled at the joke but didn’t laugh. 

“No seriously,” she said, her fingers reaching out to trace his jaw. “You look...” 

Edmund’s eyes searched out Robert’s while Anna struggled to find the right word. Robert knew what the look was – he wanted him to come up with an excuse. But Robert could find none. He floundered, turning his water glass in his hands the same way Edmund had just been turning his own wine glass. Anna, finding that Edmund was no longer responding to her, turned her intense and fathomless gaze to Robert. 

He looked away. Anna had the uncanny ability to draw the truth out of people with just that look, the one that old him that she would figure it out eventually, so it would be better for his overall health if he just provided her with what she wanted to know. 

Why she didn’t become a cop, he’d never understand. 

“Robert,” her voice was a prompt, and he immediately glanced up. It was a mistake. 

Her eyes were large and probing, but there was an element of hurt in there too. Edmund’s lack of response was worrying her, and the fact that they were both writhing in their seats like they didn’t want her there was hurting her feelings. Robert groaned. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Nothing is going on,” he answered weakly, already knowing a follow up question would blow a hole in his hull. 

“Robert Townsend,” her voice was stern, and even though her hand was gently resting on top of Edmund’s, he could see the terror in her boyfriend’s eyes. “Why is my Edmund acting like I’m on the edge of uncovering some great secret?” 

Robert’s eyes left his friend’s momentarily, and Anna let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Don’t lie to me,” she said coolly, “I always know when you two are lying.” 

Robert would be hard-pressed to deny that fact; his friendship with Edmund Hewlett was one of kinship, a spiritual likeness that they both found comforting enough to forsake other friendships that were much more toxic (Edmund’s friendship with Richard Woodhull had been on its last legs when the man had opposed his wedding anyway), and if there was one thing they had in common, it was their desire for transparency. 

“Fine,” he relented, shifting in his seat as Edmund’s face went sheet white. 

“I’m listening,” Anna’s voice still hadn’t lost its hard edge. 

“Robert –” Edmund’s voice was more than worried, it was terrified. “Don’t.” 

Anna turned her penetrating gaze to him. “Then why don’t you tell me what this is about?” she asked. 

“Please, Edmund, tell her,” Robert’s voice had the lilt of sarcasm, but Edmund knew he was sincere. “She’s too smart for this.” 

Edmund’s eyes flitted between the two of them, the terror mounting. Robert wished he could give him some sort of encouragement without revealing his intentions, but he held his tongue, waiting, hoping, for him to speak. After a long moment, Anna’s gaze softened, and he stood from his chair. 

“I have to go,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket and essentially fleeing the scene, leaving Robert alone with Anna. 

“Do I need to go after him?” she asked Robert, her voice wavering just enough to push Robert’s hand. She was on the edge of confused tears, yet another thing he could not abide. 

Forgive me, Edmund, he thought. 

“Before you do,” he reached past his empty water glass and took hold of Anna’s wrist. “Do you want to marry him?” 

She furrowed her brows at the question, her mouth contorting into an almost amused frown. “Of course I do,” she answered readily. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

Robert released her arm and shook his head, leaning back so his gaze was directed at the ceiling. He almost felt a giddy sort of relief. He wondered if Edmund would feel the same way. 

“Then would you please just do it already?” he asked. “Because he’s too scared to ask you and it’s driving me mad.” 

Anna’s confused face deepened. “He’s already asked me once. Why would I change my mind?” 

Robert sighed and shrugged at the same time, and the motion pulled a laugh from Anna. Her eyes left his and focused on something far away. “That’s what he’s so scared of,” she muttered to herself, just loud enough for Robert to hear. “Stupid Richard. Stupid Cassandra.” Without an explanation, she reached into her shirt and pulled out a delicate chain that was long enough to hang easily in the valley of her breasts. On it was the first engagement ring Edmund had given her. “Would I wear this every day if I didn’t want to marry him?” 

The challenge in her voice, daring him to ask for more proof, brought a smile to his lips. Edmund was truly a lucky man to have fierce Anna Smith beside him. 

“You won’t need that anymore,” he pointed to the ring on the chain. “He bought you another one.” 

The hardness in her eyes melted away to something much more tender; she looked away from him, her fingers reaching for Edmund’s empty glass of wine. “Maybe I should just wait for him to work up to it himself,” she mused. “I pushed him to get married the first time.” 

Robert shook his head. “He thinks that you don’t want to get married. He thinks it’ll never happen. I fear that waiting for him to work up to it will leave you waiting too long.” 

“I could never wait too long for him,” Anna waved off the notion, but she still seemed to be thinking of an alternate avenue. 

“Ultimately, it’s your decision,” Robert shrugged, but Anna’s eyes had adopted that faraway look that Edmund’s always had when he was thinking of the universe and its mysteries. 

“I have an idea, but I need your help.” 

***

Anna Smith was not a good cook. Normally, Edmund was the one who obliged in the household duties that required heat and things that could easily set off the smoke alarms. But today, today she cooked. 

Robert’s father had provided her with “easy, foolproof” recipes that even she couldn’t butcher, and while she appreciated the attempt, she was rapidly finding that even easy recipes could best her. 

“Sam, how do you know that chicken is cooked?” she asked, poking the offending slab of meat with her fork delicately. 

The older man’s voice held a timbre of a laugh. “Is it pink on the inside?” 

She slid a knife into it and separated the meat. “No.” 

“Then congratulations, darling, you made chicken.” 

She felt an almost embarrassingly large amount of pride in just that sentence. She pumped her fist in the air, almost tossing the fork from her grip in her excitement. 

“Thank you so much, Sam,” she gushed into the phone. Robert’s father finally let his chuckle free. She could almost hear the ear-splitting smile that she was sure adorned the man’s face. 

“Good luck tonight, dear,” he said sweetly. “And make sure your potatoes are cooked before you take them out of the oven.” 

“How -?”

“They’ll be soft when you poke them with a fork.” 

She nodded solemnly, ready to take up the next challenge with vigor. She surveyed the potatoes in the oven, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at them. When the lock in the front door jiggled, she quickly muttered a good-bye to Mr. Townsend and hung up, flipping her phone onto its face to look nonchalant. 

Edmund was in her favorite suit, the dark grey one with the white shirt. His eyes were full of worry as he entered the kitchen; they hadn’t spoken since he fled from the bar. By the time Anna had returned to their home, he was asleep, and she found she couldn’t sleep. She sat up late, reading and staring at his sleeping form. By the time she slipped into a restless sleep, the sun was creeping up the horizon, and though she fell asleep with her book on her lap, she woke up to it closed and bookmarked beside the bed, and her body tucked gently into bed. 

“Are you…cooking?” he asked incredulously, his nose twitching just barely as he sniffed. “And…not burning things?” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Anna deadpanned, flicking off the oven light. “And yes, I am cooking.” 

It didn’t seem like he was up for continuing that particular vein of conversation. “Anna, dear, about last night –”

“Don’t worry about it,” Anna waved it off. 

He seemed taken aback. “But –”

“Robert told me that you were trying to figure some stuff out, and that you’d tell me when you were ready,” she lied, turning away from him so he couldn’t read the deception in her eyes. “I trust him, and I trust you.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief, and Anna felt guilty enough in her inconsequential lie to toss out an, “I love you, you know that, right?” 

***

Anna had to admit that she felt the pressure that Edmund must have been suffering under as they sat through dinner, meticulously plated on their best china, with the light of their mismatched candles casting shadows over their faces. Was this the terror he felt every time his hand touched the ring that was meant to be hers? 

“Dinner is delicious, Anna,” Edmund said with a smile that took her breath away. “Have you been holding out on me this whole time so I would do the cooking?” 

She chuckled. “No, this was purely a fluke, I promise.” 

He smiled at her modesty, but his eyes never left her face. “Have I forgotten a special date?” he asked cautiously. “Because this is a romantic set-up, but I fear I don’t know the occasion.” 

Anna took a deep breath and decided that now was as good a time as any. She gently placed her fork and knife down on her plate and scooted her chair closer to his. His eyes fell to the offending chair as it let out a screech that brought a smile to his lips, giving her the opportunity to pull the ring out of her pocket. 

“Edmund,” she prompted, and his eyes landed on the ring, the one she had spent hours looking for the night before. She found it in the box, hidden at the bottom of the drawer that held all of his ties. His smile froze on his face as he recognized it. 

“Anna,” he warned, and she slid out of her chair to kneel in front of him. She reached for his hand and cradled it gently in hers, trying to decide if the trembles were his or hers. 

“Robert told you, didn’t he?” There were tears shining in his eyes. She blinked in confusion at the shining wetness, unsure if it was from sadness or happiness. “I told him not –”

“I didn’t interrupt you when you did this, did I?” she cut him off, tightening her hold on his hand, intensifying the trembles. So they were hers after all. 

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” she said seriously, her gaze holding his firmly. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” 

A tear managed to free itself from his left eye. He didn’t wipe it away. 

“Any woman would be lucky to be your wife.” 

He released a breath that was almost like a sob. 

“You are more than enough.” 

“Anna –”

“We deserve this,” she pushed on, ignoring the lump in her throat that altered the tone of her voice. “We have been through enough, both together and apart, to deserve happiness.” One of her hands released his to reach into her shirt to pull out the same chain she had shown Robert. “I wore this every day, because I knew one day we could get back here.” 

His free hand came up to hold her first ring gently. Every word she said felt like she was writing it on his soul, overwriting the words that Cassandra had pressed into him. 

“You’ll never please a woman, Edmund.” 

“Any woman would be lucky to be your wife.” 

“No one else will want you.” 

“You are more than enough.” 

“Please,” she was looking up at him through her thick eyelashes, emotion shining in the dark irises that always threatened to pull him under their current. “Give us another chance.” 

He didn’t remember if he said yes, or if he just nodded his head, but she was vaulting into his arms, and his single tears were flowing much faster than before, and the ring he had thought never to wear was nestled on his finger.

“I fear I owe Robert a drink.” 

Anna’s laugh was rich and full of delight and promise. “You owe him more than a drink.”


End file.
